


An Innocent Prank

by defying3reason



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, April Fools' Day, Fluff, M/M, Oblivious Enjolras, Overprotective Codependent Friends, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2902991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defying3reason/pseuds/defying3reason
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire tricks and embarrasses Enjolras with a clever April Fool's Day prank. Humiliated, in a fit of hurt pride and a spiteful desire of vengeance (and not quite understanding how pranks are supposed to work), Enjolras seizes on a way to get Grantaire back.</p><p>Or Enjolras is too stupid to notice that Grantaire is actually in love with him.</p><p> </p><p>Rating went up for the last chapter</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't know exactly why I'm writing an April Fool's story in December, but as writing has come so difficultly to me lately I'm not questioning it too much and have decided to just go with it, timing be damned. Hope you guys like it!

Enjolras tended to forget April Fool’s Day existed, which made him a tantalizingly easy mark for some of his friends. He barely cared about most holidays to begin with, unless they came with an interesting history he could manipulate for didactic purposes, like Memorial/Decoration Day. But April Fool’s Day didn’t qualify, and as such, he thought of April 1st like he did any other day in April.

He took note of the fine weather as soon as he opened his eyes, then went about his normal routine. He made his bed, found his slippers, and crept into the kitchen, which smelled heavenly owing to the preset coffee maker. After pouring himself a bowl-sized mug and sugaring it appropriately, he sat down at the table with his laptop and scanned his Facebook feed for interesting looking articles (and, less important certainly, but still significant, updates from his friends).

He skimmed a few headlines without clicking on the articles, his coffee gradually disappearing as he went through his feed. He liked a few of Courfeyrac’s many status-updates, because he understood that sort of thing was important to his friend without really understanding why, and was just about to call it a day when he got a notification. Still not entirely awake, he clicked on the notification without really reading it, and was taken to an article that someone had shared to his wall. His attention was completely hijacked by the headline, to the point where he didn’t really notice which one of his friends had shared it.

According to the article, which (at a casual glance) was sourced from a reasonably reputable media outlet, Elizabeth Warren had managed to squeeze through a bill reforming student loans. The interest rates of all new student loans were to receive a mandatory cap at a reasonable rate similar to what the big banks had gotten during the bailouts, and loans taken out between 2003-2014 would be capped at 4%, which though not perfect, was still much better than what some students Enjolras knew struggled with. He made an audible sound of glee when he saw that funding for this project would be taken from the bloated military budget, and not social programs.

Enjolras immediately clicked share, and wrote a lengthy status about how monumental a victory this was, and how it could be the beginning of a much-needed shift in the country’s values, and how important it was to prioritize education by making it affordable to the masses, so on and so forth. He was beside himself with joy.

Courfeyrac punctured his happy-activist balloon by commenting on the link. ‘Um…Enj? didja take a look at who sent this to you?’

Enjolras frowned and clicked on the article again. It all looked right. Granted, mainstream news outlets weren’t his favorite, but they were usually deemed more trustworthy than the flagrantly biased radical organizations he favored. He replied to Courfeyrac with a bunch of question marks.

Courfeyrac’s next comment came through Facebook Messenger. ‘Hey…so I don’t fault you at all for being taken in. I mean, R’s a graphic design major so this is kinda his thing and of course he’s good at it…but I feel honor bound as your friend to tell you you’ve been had.’

Enjolras went to his wall to more closely examine the original posting. Grantaire had indeed posted the article to his wall without comment, which was suspicious enough. When Enjolras went to the news outlet’s website he couldn’t find the article anywhere.

He couldn’t find it because it didn’t exist. It was a spectacularly well done forgery.

Enjolras deleted his shared post before messaging Courfeyrac back, thanking him profusely for bringing that to his attention before it did too much damage to his reputation. Enjolras had networked with quite a few other radical activists, and for something like that to show up in his feed…

‘No worries,’ Courfeyrac messaged. ‘I’m sure you would have caught it by your second cup of coffee. Cheers.’

More than a little angry, and oddly disappointed, Enjolras shut down his computer, started in on that second cup of coffee, and retreated to his bedroom to get dressed.

* * *

Enjolras didn’t realize how mad he still was at Grantaire for his admittedly clever joke until the man stumbled into the Musain halfway into the night.

Much to Enjolras’ dismay, his gullibility had been screenshot and shared among his friends, so they were all well aware that Grantaire had gotten him. When he seized up and leveled what could only be described as a paint-peeling glare Grantaire’s way, all on instinct and without conscious thought, Jehan reached over and rubbed a soothing circle on his back. “It’s okay, dear. I think it’s actually to your credit that you thought the article was real. It’s a remarkable show of character that that’s the sort of thing Grantaire wanted to prank you with to begin with.”

“Yes, Grantaire took my desire to see my fellow students fairly treated and turned it into the subject of ridicule.”

Jehan sighed. “If that’s the way you want to see it, I suppose it’s the way you shall regardless of what I say.”

Grantaire’s uneven step faltered when he got close enough to the table to make out Enjolras’ expression. Their eyes locked for a moment; Enjolras did his best to put all his disdain and hurt into one withering expression while Grantaire looked accordingly cowed. Then his bravado slipped into place along with a drunken smile, and Grantaire was his usual clownish self. Enjolras did his best to ignore him, keeping his attention pointedly fixed on his laptop screen with its factual, trustworthy news articles.

After a few hours with their friends to smooth things over between them Enjolras was close to starting to forgive Grantaire. After all, the joke had been harmless enough, and certainly better than what Bossuet had suffered at the hands of his roommate and lover (Joly and Jehan had somehow managed to switch out all his shirts for the distinctive yellow Charlie Brown one while hiding all his hats, so even now he bore a striking resemblance to the famous comic strip character). Enjolras was about to make some kind of friendly overture to Grantaire, when he was distracted by a new Facebook notification.

One of the activists he’d been trying to network with for months, the head of a radical LGBT group in the city, had messaged him with a screenshot of his enthusiastic post about Grantaire’s forgery and the lone comment ‘you really fell for this?’

All budding goodwill was gone in an instant as Enjolras silently vowed, despite his complete inexperience and disinterest in pranking, to get vengeance on Grantaire for his public humiliation. Enjolras brought his glare _beyond_ paint-stripping level, somewhere into heart-stoppingly frigid territory, and felt a bit of malicious satisfaction when Grantaire’s skin visibly crawled in response.

“What?” he asked pitifully. “You can’t still be mad at me. You were starting to warm up.”

Enjolras closed his laptop with an angry snap, shoved it into his bag, and climbed to his feet. Without a word, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the café. He could hear some of his friends calling for him to come back, while a few abused him as being too uptight and no fun, which was a common enough complaint that it rolled right off his back.

His face felt flushed when he hit the cooler air outside the café. Enjolras took a few deep breaths and tried to focus on what Jehan had been saying. His eagerness to find some sign that his work had meaning didn’t make him a simple minded fool…he shouldn’t be as embarrassed as he was to have been mocked on such a broad, public platform that he used to communicate with near-strangers he had the utmost respect for.

God. Now all he wanted was to get home, curl into a ball in his room, and spend the night with angry socialist books and cats. He didn’t even own a cat.

Enjolras was halfway down the street when he heard labored breathing closing in on him. “Enj, hey. Hey, wait up!”

He paused for a moment, chewed on his lip, and then started power-walking as fast as he could. After a mumbled swear, the labored breathing stepped up in intensity as worn sneaker-soles smacked the pavement with a quicker, more regular rhythm. Enjolras power-walked to the best of his ability, but to no avail. Grantaire struggled his way to Enjolras’ side after a few minutes despite inebriation and smoker’s lungs.

“Enjolras!” Grantaire grabbed his arm, and Enjolras was forced to stop power-walking lest he drag the man behind him. He balled his hands into fists, turned to face Grantaire, and fixed him with an expectant (and irritated) look. “Uh…” Grantaire wavered a little, and took a hesitant step back. “Look, I was only trying to have a little fun. M’sorry. I didn’t realize how pissed off it’d make you.”

“You _humiliated_ me. You know I use Facebook as more than recreation, or staying in touch with friends. Grantaire, people I _work_ with follow my feed. People I’ve networked with, that I need to respect me, that I want to think highly of me.”

“I’m sure they do,” Grantaire said without missing a beat. “Besides that…I mean, I didn’t honestly expect you to fall for it. That’s why I spent so long trying to make the thing look real. I even made a fake comments section, but like…if you’d refreshed it or tried to click on any of them…you couldn’t-couldn’t type in the fields or anything. The page was just an image. None of the fake ads linked out or anything.”

Feeling a fresh stab of shame for his gullibility, Enjolras silently began walking again.

“Enjolras!” Grantaire half-yelled, half-whined. “I’m fucking sorry, okay? I don’t know what else to say. It was a joke, it was dumb, and I wish I’d never done it. I seriously did not expect you to even look at something _I’d_ put on your wall.”

“Well _clearly_ that is not the case, since you spent so much time crafting the fake image!” Enjolras exploded. He turned around and marched over to Grantaire, who cowered in the face of his anger. “What do you want me to do? I’m too upset to accept your apology right this very instant. I accept that you didn’t mean to wound me or my reputation, but you did and I’m going to take some time to recover. Will you let me have it?”

“Uh…is there any way I could speed it along? Seriously, Enj. I’ll do anything. I’d do anything for you on a given day anyway, but especially right now. I can’t take it when you’re mad at me.”

“And yet you irritate and pester me all the time.”

“That’s different. You’ve never gotten this pissed off at me for teasing you before. This is kinda scary.”

Enjolras took a few steps back and pinched the bridge of his nose, willing himself to calm down. He had a temper, and he was very proud, failings he tried to keep in check. Grantaire did have a way of bringing out the worst in him, however.

Grantaire misread his silence entirely, and interrupted his attempt to reign his temper in and cool down by pressing the issue.

“Enjolras, please-please-please just say I’m forgiven? Seriously, even if you don’t feel it yet, just say it so I can fucking sleep tonight. I’ll make up for it later, I promise. I’ll, I’ll paint you whatever you want. No, I’ll design a website for you for free. C’mon, I never do design work for free. I’ll alphabetize your bookshelves, or grind your coffee beans or…uh…black your boots? I’ll fucking lick the dirt from them with my tongue. I’ll lick whatever you want me to lick. Please let me off the hook. It was just a stupid joke. I was just trying to get a rise out of you.”

“Grantaire, _stop_.”

Grantaire snapped his mouth shut. It looked like he was getting towards the teary, emotional part of his drunk-spectrum, because his lower lip was trembling and his eyes were watering.

Impulsively, _cruelly_ , Enjolras seized on an idea for revenge, and rather than examining whether it was a good idea or not (or even counted as a joke), he followed the idiotic impulse. In that moment he just really, really wanted to hurt Grantaire, and there was an easy way to do so.

The man provided him with an easy enough method by habitual, insincere offers of his affections. Enjolras could work with that. See how humiliated _he_ felt when he was offered something he’d wanted, only to find out it wasn’t true.

“You want to make it up to me?” Enjolras started, taking a few slow, measured steps towards Grantaire.

Grantaire nodded eagerly. “I’ll do anything. I’m completely at your service.”

Enjolras raked his eyes over Grantaire, who didn’t seem to know what to do under the scrutiny. He fidgeted with his hands, breath coming fast. Enjolras pretended to consider. “Yes…I do believe I could make use of your… _services_ tonight. Follow me.” He resumed his quick, purposeful stroll towards his apartment building. Grantaire was initially too flabbergasted to follow, but he made up for it and, with a sad amount of effort for someone so young, managed to catch up to Enjolras quickly enough.

Now that he’d begun the ruse, Enjolras wasn’t quite sure where to finish it. He supposed a mild entendre wasn’t enough to get Grantaire’s hopes up. Especially since he probably believed Enjolras had no idea what he’d been implying. Enjolras didn’t sleep around. He didn’t even flirt. He’d given no indication to his friends that he knew what they were talking about when they used double entendres (just because he didn’t care didn’t mean he didn’t know). Grantaire might think he was too innocent to know where the man’s dirty mind had gone.

He walked up the steps to his porch, unlocked the front door, and held it open for Grantaire. The poor kid still looked shell-shocked, like he had no idea what was going on, but he followed Enjolras anyway. He felt oddly powerful, having Grantaire wordlessly obeying him like that. In petulant anger he was choosing to view as righteous indignation, he didn’t question that satisfaction at all.

Grantaire struggled a bit with the two flights of stairs to Enjolras’ floor. As such, he was waiting for Grantaire in his living room for a few minutes, divested of jacket and shoes.

Grantaire finally crept in, sans sneakers but still wearing his enormous, unflattering old hoodie. He was playing with the rips in the hoodie’s cuffs, eying Enjolras warily. “Y-you’ve got a nice place.” Grantaire winced as soon as he’d spoken, finding some kind of fault with his bland observation.

It took Enjolras a second to realize that he’d never invited Grantaire over before. His apartment wasn’t ever exactly a popular hangout for their friends, but he’d had Combeferre and Courfeyrac over often enough to work on projects or even just to socialize, and Jehan and Feuilly and Bossuet had all crashed on his couch when they’d needed help. Even Bahorel had been over to help him bring in some furniture.

Grantaire really was the only one he’d never had over for a visit.

“I didn’t bring you here to get a critique of my décor,” Enjolras said icily. Seeing Grantaire wince again, he decided to soften it a bit. “Though I’m sure you’re uniquely skilled to do so.”

“So…what did you bring me here for? Cuz you still look pretty pissed off.”

Oh, pissed off didn’t do his feelings justice at all. But he’d need to hide that for his prank to have any chance of succeeding (it still hadn’t occurred to Enjolras that this wasn’t actually a prank; he’d never attempted one before and only had the vaguest understanding of what they entailed).

“I’d thought that was clear already.”

“From a normal guy, yeah it would be,” Grantaire said. “But you’re you and you don’t…you don’t invite guys back to your apartment. Ever. So what is this?”

Face a perfect mask, Enjolras took a confident, measured step closer to Grantaire and quirked his lips in the barest smirk. He took another slow, thorough glance over Grantaire’s body, liking the way he faintly blushed and trembled in response. “What do you want it to be?” Enjolras asked. “You said you’d make your insult up to me. That you’d do anything. I’ve no experience in such matters, so I’m open to suggestion.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Grantaire let out a slow, shaky breath. “I…I don’t know, Enj. M-maybe I should go. We can talk in the morning and I can apologize and grovel then, when the world makes sense again. I’m still stuck on the fact that you asked me to go home with you.”

“And you did, ergo we should talk _now_ and not in the morning.”

“It didn’t sound like you were interested in talking.”

“No, I suppose I’m not.” And then, on the same cruel impulse that had brought them to that moment, Enjolras grabbed Grantaire by the shoulders and tugged him close for a messy, angry kiss. Grantaire was limp against him at first, but then, probably instinctually, he started to respond.

He was actually pretty good at it. Maybe Grantaire’s boastings among his friends were more truthful than was generally supposed.

Not that it would take much to impress Enjolras. He had so little experience kissing, or even giving friendly touches to people, that it was almost pathetic. At any rate, his eyes drifted shut, and he found himself making embarrassing little pleased noises as Grantaire, who had taken control of the kiss, coaxed wonderful sensations from him.

He made a sound of loss when Grantaire pulled away. Something painful tugged at his chest when he opened his eyes and saw the way Grantaire was looking at him.

He should have felt satisfied. His “prank” had clearly worked. He’d gotten Grantaire’s hopes up that after years of refusing his crude sexual advances, Enjolras was finally going to give in. What he’d failed to notice in all the years of their volatile friendship and the years of half-joking lascivious offers that had been made in that time was that Grantaire was offering much more than a night of pleasure to his friend. Enjolras looked into the wildly ecstatic, disbelieving face and realized that Grantaire was over the moon just to have kissed him.

Enjolras had no heart to continue with his ruse. It must have shown on his face, because Grantaire’s expression faltered. “E-Enjolras? Was that…did you not like the kiss? I, I thought it was a good kiss.”

“Oh, R, it was a marvelous kiss. You’re very good at kissing.”

“Thanks? Uh…what’s wrong? You look really upset, and I’m supposed to be groveling right now. I’m not trying to piss you off anymore, I promise. How do I fix it?”

Shit. Enjolras was quite possibly the worst human being ever.

How had he never noticed how nakedly Grantaire was always looking for his approval? How could he have even considered playing with the man’s heart like this?

“It’s nothing, ‘Taire.” Enjolras gave his shaking hand a gentle squeeze. “I just remembered something I forgot to do. You probably ought to go. You were right. We can talk in the morning instead. I can meet you for coffee.”

Grantaire turned as guarded as he was able to in his current state of inebriation. He offered a strained smile, going to great pains to appear “casual.”

“Sure. Coffee sounds good. I’ll, uh…I’ll see you then. Um…I’m still really sorry about the stupid April Fool’s Day joke. I know how important it is to you to…well, to be respectable. I honestly thought you’d just laugh it off.”

“It’s okay. Grantaire, don’t give it another thought. Here, let me walk you out.” Enjolras started towards the front door, and waited patiently while Grantaire struggled to get back into his shoes, a task made more difficult not just by the alcohol in his system, but also the fact that his shoes were an inch from falling apart with ancient laces that really wanted to hold onto their tricky knotting.

Enjolras watched him almost fall over three times while he struggled to get the shoes on, and with guilt still churning in the pit of his stomach, he once again blurted a response without thinking it through. “Are you going to be okay getting home on your own?”

“Huh? Yeah. I’ve stumbled home from further in worse shape than this.” Grantaire drew himself to his full height, which was almost as tall as Enjolras when he wasn’t slouching or curled in on himself. “I got this. I mean, we’re what, five blocks from the Corinth?”

“We were at the Musain tonight, R. Do you even know where we are?”

“Uh…downtown?”

“Closer to the waterfront, actually.”

“Damn.” Grantaire frowned, and the slouching resumed. “No, I don’t know where the fuck I am. Could you maybe loan me some cash for a cab?”

“You can stay on my couch.”

“But…the thing you remembered. Aren’t you going to be busy?”

Enjolras took his arm and guided him back to the living room. “I’ll manage it fine in my bedroom.” He cast about wildly for an excuse. Luckily, he only had to be so convincing with Grantaire in the shape he was in. “It’s an article I’ve left to the absolute last minute for revision. I’ve got to send it out by morning, but it still needs a bit more work. Here. Let me get you a pillow and blanket. You can sleep over tonight, tomorrow morning we’ll have coffee, and then we’ll find you a ride back to your place. Does that sound okay?”

“Sure.” Grantaire sat down heavily on the couch and began pulling at the shoes he’d just struggled to get back into. Enjolras made his retreat and just barely managed not to hyperventilate when he got to his room.

He had no idea how he was going to fix this in the morning. Shit-shit- _shit_.

Grantaire had feelings for him. _Real_ non-sarcastic feelings, and Enjolras had been ready to manipulate them out of petty spite.

“Deep breaths, Enjolras,” he muttered to himself. “He’s really drunk. Best-case scenario, maybe he won’t remember any of this.” Either way, panicking in his room wasn’t going to help anything. He’d have to deal with it in the morning, and maybe by then he’d have an idea.

Enjolras collected a spare pillow and a few blankets, and then returned to the living room.

Grantaire was sitting on the couch waiting for him. He’d taken off his ever-present tattered hoodie and stripped down to his boxers in readiness for sleep. For the third time that night, Enjolras found himself raking his eyes over Grantaire’s body, but this time it wasn’t calculated at all. Despite his boasts about romantic prowess and successful conquests, Grantaire never carried himself with any measure of confidence. He certainly never dressed at all seductively, sticking to baggy clothing he could literally crawl into. Accordingly, Enjolras had never seen him wear anything more revealing than a slightly-better-fitted-hoodie than his usual one paired with cargo shorts.

He had really nice legs. And arms. Enjolras couldn’t help lingering a moment on his muscled forearms, one of which was sporting the line work of a tattoo-in-progress. The tattoo intrigued him. The line work was rather nice as it was. He hoped Grantaire wasn’t planning on going overboard with colors.

Grantaire offered him a wobbly smile, eyes going to the warm looking blankets and the pillow. “Thanks. I seriously didn’t mean to, like…like mooch hospitality from you. Shoulda just stuck around the Musain and gotten a ride with Bahorel like I meant to, so you wouldn’t be stuck with me.”

“Grantaire, it’s fine. Here.” Enjolras helped him make up a bed. On another regrettable impulse, he smoothed down some of Grantaire’s hair. It was surprisingly soft under his fingers, considering how unkempt it was. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay? Good night.”

“Night, Enj. Thanks for not being mad at me. Couldn’t sleep with you mad at me.” Grantaire looked perfectly content, curled up in Enjolras’ blankets on his couch. He turned on his side, eyelids drooping shut. He was already snoring by the time Enjolras got to his bedroom.

He closed his door, flopped onto his bed, and pulled his pillow over his head. “I’m a terrible human being,” he moaned.

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	2. Chapter 2

Sleep amnesia hit Enjolras hard. When he woke up the next morning he remembered that he’d gone to bed upset about something, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He generally wasn’t at his best before his coffee, so rather than struggle trying to figure it out he rolled out of bed and started the disgruntled shuffle to the kitchen counter and his preset coffeemaker.

He could tell something wasn’t right as soon as he opened his bedroom door. The house didn’t smell like delicious-delicious coffee because he hadn’t set the machine the night before.

Everything came crashing back in the most unpleasant manner when he saw Grantaire sprawled over his couch. It looked like the kid had had a restless sleep; he’d kicked off most of the blankets and one of his socks while he slept, and was hugging the pillow to his chest rather than using it. Enjolras gaped at him in horror, then carefully tiptoed back into his room and shut the door.

Shit. Shit-shit-shit. It was morning and he was _still_ a terrible human being and he _still_ didn’t know how to fix it.

He didn’t panic for long. Enjolras rarely let his emotions overwhelm him. But he honestly had no idea what to say to Grantaire. What could he say? Everything he rehearsed in his head sounded cruel at best. ‘Sorry, but I don’t actually have any feelings for you whatsoever. In fact, I barely even think of you as a friend. I just thought it’d be a good joke to kiss you.’

How was leading Grantaire on supposed to have been funny anyway? He couldn’t even remember why it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

Deep down, Enjolras knew that he had to tell Grantaire the truth. Grantaire might not have been his favorite person in the world, but at his core Grantaire was a good man and he deserved that respect. But Enjolras wasn’t quite up to facing his failings just at that moment, and he convinced himself that whatever he said might hurt Grantaire worse than his actions already had. He convinced himself that it would be better for _Grantaire_ if he got some guidance first.

So Enjolras dressed himself and then, as quietly as possible, crept out of his apartment without waking his accidental guest.

* * *

It took Enjolras some time to figure out which of his friends he should confess to. He spent the majority of his time with Combeferre, since they were intellectual kin, but this wasn’t an intellectual problem. He was tempted to refer to Courfeyrac, though something told him that instinct was faulty. Sure, Courfeyrac was experienced romantically, but that wasn’t the sort of guidance he was looking for either.

In the end he wound up on Jehan’s doorstep. He wanted someone to listen to him before he sought their advice, and he needed someone who would help him without making him feel worse than he already did. He didn’t need a lecture; he needed help.

As it was still stupidly early in the morning, Jehan answered the door bleary eyed, crazy-haired, and wearing a bulky red Wonder Woman bathrobe. He covered a yawn with his hand and stepped aside to let Enjolras in. “Good morning, Enjolras. Joly and Bos-excuse me, Bossuet are still asleep so we’ll have to keep our voices down.”

“That’s fine. Can we talk in the kitchen? And possibly have some coffee?”

Jehan smiled sleepily and nodded. “Of course. Ah, I suppose five thirty is early for you as well?”

“When we’re on break from school it is,” Enjolras said. “I’m sorry for waking you, but I do appreciate that you let me in. I really need a friendly ear for this.”

“It’s no trouble at all, dear.” Jehan waved him to the kitchen table and then turned his attention to the coffee maker.

Enjolras always enjoyed looking around the apartment Jehan shared with Joly and Bossuet. It had started out as Joly’s apartment, but his first roommate broke the lease and took off rather than be “nagged to death over imaginary sanitation complaints.” Jehan had seized on the opportunity to move out of his parents’ house and taken the vacant bedroom, with Bossuet moving in gradually as his relationship with Joly got more serious. The three young men all possessed easy tempers, but that was one of the only things they had in common. The shared space reflected all of their individual personalities, which made for some interesting sights.

For example, Joly insisted on keeping everything meticulously clean and sanitized, but Bossuet was a walking disaster and Jehan liked everything to be cozy and tranquil. Therefore, the crocheted doilies and linen place settings they put out to satisfy Jehan’s tastes were regularly washed and pressed at the hypochondriac’s insistence, and some of Jehan’s clutter was inevitably broken or stained by the accident-prone Bossuet.

Jehan made some light conversation while he made their coffee, and Enjolras did his best to answer while being terribly distracted. Jehan was frowning thoughtfully by the time he took a seat beside Enjolras. He angled his chair so that he was facing Enjolras directly and regarded him with that absorbed, compassionate attention that had drawn Enjolras to him in his distress.

“Enjolras, is this something…very serious?”

“I kind of…” He’d started to speak, but changed his mind and began again. “Jehan, can you tell me something first? I know you like to observe people.” The dreamy poet spent the brunt of their gatherings people-watching, only contributing a few stray comments to their group discussions, and saving his most interesting conversation for one-on-one discussions. “Have you ever noticed anything…anything odd about how Grantaire treats me? It’s different from how he behaves with everyone else, isn’t it?”

Jehan slowly nodded, considering what to say and how much of it. “Yes…Grantaire sees you very differently from his other friends. Enjolras, what is this about? Did he say something to you last night after the two of you left the Musain?”

“N-not exactly. It’s…I did something stupid, I’m afraid.”

“Oh dear. Well, Enjolras, let’s have it all at once, if you please.”

Enjolras nodded, but found it hard to meet Jehan’s eyes after that. “I was just so angry about the stupid prank, and I wanted to get him back. He’s always making those crude jokes about me. He pretends to proposition me at least a few times a week, so I thought I’d turn it around on him and proposition him instead.”

He didn’t need to look up to realize that Jehan was upset. He heard the chair squeak on the floor as Jehan shifted away from him, and he could see one slender hand balling into an angry fist.

“It wasn’t much of a joke,” Enjolras admitted quickly. “I’m not very good with pranks. The punchline never developed. I just, I brought him back to my apartment and I kissed him and then I realized that it wasn’t funny at all. The way he looked at me, Jehan…is he in love with me?”

“He’s never said as much one way or the other, but we’ve all assumed as much. The poor dear’s not very good at hiding his affections.” Jehan’s voice sounded cold and pinched. Enjolras had never heard him sound that way before. “What happened after you kissed him?”

“N-nothing. I wasn’t angry anymore, but I couldn’t-I don’t know what to do now. I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Yes, yes, that’s all well and good but what did you _do_? You didn’t rip his heart out on the spot and send him home, did you?” Jehan pressed.

Enjolras finally looked up, and saw that Jehan was fuming at him. It died quickly when Jehan saw the anguished look on his face.

“I just panicked. I told him to sleep over and then we’d talk in the morning, but I still didn’t know what to do when I woke up so I came here. He was sleeping on my couch when I left.” Enjolras ran an agitated hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to fix this, Jehan. I…I think my best hope is that he’ll have been too drunk to remember what happened.”

“Yes, I suppose that is a possibility. But if he _does_ remember-”

“I don’t love him back, Jehan. I don’t hate him either, so I don’t want to be cruel, but I can’t…every explanation I’ve tried to word in my head just sounds so abhorrent.”

“Yes, well, that would be the natural consequence, considering your actions last night. Enjolras, I know about your temper and how terrible you sometimes get, but there’s usually something constructive in your anger. This is…this isn’t like you. You’re not cruel, and to do this to someone like Grantaire…” Jehan sounded so mournful.

Enjolras seized on his last statement in a conscious effort to avoid the rest of it. “What do you mean? What’s different about Grantaire?” He felt guilty, sure, but the boisterous, cocky young man would recover from this just like any other disappointment…right?

As if in answer to Enjolras’ silent queries, Jehan began shaking his head. His hands were shaking as he rolled and unrolled the sleeve of his robe. “Oh Enjolras…Grantaire is so _fragile_ right now. He tries to hide it, the poor dear, but he’s not a very strong man-”

“Sure he is. He and Bahorel have that gym membership and they do those boxing classes-”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, Enjolras, and I think you know that perfectly well.”

Enjolras burned at the censure but reluctantly nodded.

“You must have noticed that Grantaire is his own most powerful and demanding critic. Those jokes he aims at himself cut more deeply than anything anyone else has said to him, even you in your bursts of anger and disappointment. Even though he says them lightly, they’re a pretty fair reflection of his mind. He’s rather vulnerable, emotionally…and he feels so passionately for you, Enjolras. I don’t think you could have wounded him more deeply with intention than you’ll have accomplished with this mockery of his hopes.”

“I didn’t know,” Enjolras said weakly, and it sounded foolish and hollow to his own ears.

“You might have, if you’d paid him more than passing attention.”

Enjolras stood, leaving his coffee mostly untouched on the table. He didn’t need it; anxiety was substituting for energy at the moment. He wanted to get out and _do_ something, but he still felt helpless, confused, and hopelessly adrift so he settled for pacing.

Jehan calmly took a sip of his coffee, but his hands shook a little as he set it back on the table. “Enjolras, perhaps you should go back to your apartment. It’ll only be worse, if he wakes alone.”

“But what do I say to him?”

“Well, dear…that depends on how you feel. You don’t love him, but do you have any feelings for him at all?”

That question took Enjolras by surprise. He stopped pacing and stood facing Jehan, studying his face to see if he was serious. Apparently he was. “I barely have friendly feelings for Grantaire. I mean, I suppose he is funny, and I appreciate the fact that he’s a good friend to all the rest of you. I think that shows some good character at least. But, but he’s a drunk who’s wasting his potential and he’s so dark and negative and depressed about everything. I can’t even think straight when he’s around. He’s a better person than he likes to let on, but that’s not…no, I don’t like him.”

“Uh huh.”

“What? What was that, ‘uh huh?’”

Jehan rolled his eyes. “Nothing, I suppose. So you’re sure you don’t like him even a little?”

“I like him a little. Just enough to consider him a friend, Jehan. Certainly not enough to want to date him.” Even if the kiss had been pleasant.

God, and those arms…

Enjolras gave himself a little shake. A negative personality with a few lonely redeeming traits and an admittedly clever and funny mind weren’t enough. Besides, Enjolras liked to think that if he were ever going to fall for someone he’d like to ask them out properly, not as the result of a mean-spirited prank.

Even if he did like Grantaire back, he’d want to start a relationship with honesty.

“If you don’t want to kiss him again then you’ll probably have to tell him the truth,” Jehan said. “It’ll hurt, so be prepared for that, but you owe it to him to go through with it, to apologize, _profusely_ , and to stick around if he needs help.”

Enjolras took a slow breath that did nothing to calm his nerves and nodded. “You’re, you’re right. Jehan, I’m sorry.”

“Dear, apologize to Grantaire, not me.”

“No, but I…I dragged you into this and, well, he’s your friend too. I’m sorry my carelessness hurt someone you care about. I can see that you’re angry with me, and whereas I know I deserve it, I’m still sorry.”

Maybe Enjolras looked as heartsick as he felt, because the coldness left Jehan’s face with the speech. He stood up, took Enjolras’ hand in his and gave it a bracing squeeze. “I only hope R can forgive you as easily as I have. Good luck, Enjolras.”

“Thank you.” He showed himself out.

* * *

Enjolras rehearsed what he was going to say to Grantaire for the entire drive back to his apartment which was, admittedly short. He still didn’t like what he’d come up with, and obviously Jehan hadn’t given him any magic solutions that kept him from feeling like a terrible person, but he’d added a lot more groveling to soften the message, and he hoped a few compliments would help.

Because really, it’s not like Grantaire was that bad a romantic prospect. If he dressed with a little more care (and in such a way so that people could tell he had some muscle tone under his ratty hoodie) he’d be reasonably attractive. Well, he’d have to wash his hair more regularly and maybe invest in a good facial scrub, but those were attainable goals. And if he eased up on the drinking just a smidge, he’d be an interesting conversationalist instead of an annoyance. Potentially, he was a really good boyfriend. Just not for Enjolras.

He decided to swing by a drive through and get some coffees. He hadn’t drunk more than a sip of the mug Jehan had brewed for him, and he’d told Grantaire they’d have coffee and talk in the morning. He could use getting the coffee to explain why he’d snuck out, if Grantaire happened to be awake when he got upstairs.

It also gave him another ten minutes to rehearse his speech.

This whole situation had him feeling the worst kind of confusion. His emotions kept fluctuating, and they were keeping him from making sound judgments. Which he was aware of, but that didn’t make him check his increasingly ludicrous thoughts or become any more reasonable.

By the time he was unlocking the door to his apartment he’d convinced himself that it didn’t matter how badly this conversation went. It’s not like he needed Grantaire’s friendship anyway. Maybe Grantaire would stop coming to their meet-ups and he’d stop disrupting everything and distracting the less committed activists with his stupid social activities and they could actually start organizing demonstrations again and…

“I’m a _terrible_ human being,” Enjolras moaned. He gave himself a shake, reminded himself that part of the point of even having friends was to be social and have fun, and stepped into his apartment.

Grantaire was still on the couch, but he’d woken up. He was fully dressed (Enjolras was surprisingly disappointed by that) and staring at his phone when Enjolras walked in.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” God, he sounded ridiculous. Cold and formal. Just what Grantaire probably wanted to hear.

“Yeah, not bad.” He didn’t bother looking up. His hair was sticking up all over the place. Enjolras felt a ridiculous temptation to smooth it out, but that was easily suppressed.

“I bought you a coffee, but I wasn’t sure how you took it so I just ordered it black. I’ve got milk and sugar in the kitchen, if you-”

“Black’s fine.” He briefly looked up to accept the cup and Enjolras got a clear look at his face. It looked like he hadn’t slept well at all, but then, considering how much he’d had to drink the previous night he likely wasn’t feeling well.

“Come to think of it, did you want some water or an aspirin or anything?”

Grantaire smirked. “I already helped myself while you were gone.”

“Ah.” Enjolras wasn’t comfortable with the idea of being too close to Grantaire, considering what a shit show this conversation inevitably had to be, so he sat down in the chair across from the couch. “Have you been up very long?”

Grantaire snorted. “Yeah. Heard you have that little panic attack, and then I heard you creep out of the place after you hyperventilated in your room. That was classy, by the way. Bailing like that and leaving me on the couch without saying anything or even leaving a note.”

Enjolras frowned. “I thought you were still asleep, and we were supposed to have coffee…”

“You live in a pampered college kid neighborhood that is oozing with coffee shops. It shouldn’t have taken you forty minutes to get coffee.” His eyes were back on the phone screen.

An uncomfortable silence settled as Enjolras tried to figure out what to say next. Grantaire certainly wasn’t offering anything.

Instead of trying to puzzle out what he should say, or what would cause the least harm, he settled on what would merely speed things along. It’s not like it was possible for things to go well if he handled everything a certain way, after all. Besides, he was curious about something. “Grantaire, how much do you remember from last night?”

“More than you’d give the drunken train wreck credit for, I’m guessing.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to insult you, but I’d like to have some understanding of what exactly it is we’re talking about.”

“Uh huh. And what you’re going to say changes based on what I know, right? Or are you going to own up to anything?”

Enjolras frowned at him. “I’m not proud of my behavior. It seems like your recollection is better than expected, though considering how you were when you went to bed, I don’t understand how you pieced everything together so quickly.”

“Oh, I had help.” Grantaire stood up and shoved his phone into his pocket.

Enjolras’ stomach dropped. “Jehan…?”

“No, of course not fricking Jehan. He’s too much of a sweetheart to say what needed to be said.” Grantaire scowled at him. “Bossuet, on the other hand, overheard you guys and he’s enough of a friend to clue me in before I said or did something else I’d regret. Funny prank, Enjolras. Seriously, I’m surprised I didn’t bust a gut laughing. You really showed me up.”

He started walking towards the door. Enjolras tried to call out to him a couple of times, but his damn throat was so constricted he couldn’t force words out. He wasn’t used to this kind of anxiety, or shame, he supposed. He usually felt confident in his own behavior, if nothing else.

He grasped Grantaire’s arm and watched in more horror as Grantaire shook him off and flinched away. “Don’t fucking touch me. I get it, okay? When I woke up I thought I only dreamed you kissed me. It’s not like I’ve ever thought I had a shot with you, so just let me lick my wounds in peace and then we can get on with our not-friendship.”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras choked out. “I really am so, so sorry. I had no idea you weren’t just joking all the times you propositioned me, and I thought that if I turned it around on you, you wouldn’t know what to do. I didn’t mean to…” He swallowed, as his words died under the incredulous stare Grantaire fixed on him.

“You didn’t even notice? My heart has been on naked display, bleeding and shriveling before you and you didn’t even fucking _notice_? Am I really that invisible to you, Enjolras?”

“I…that is, when you drink you have a way of…of obscuring what you mean.”

“I give myself a thin veil of cynic humor so I can hide and retreat if need be, but for fuck’s sake. Everyone else knows I love you. Even the fucking baristas at the Musain and the bartenders at the Corinth. On Valentine’s Day last year, Chowder gave me free shots and we drank together to our mutual heartaches. Everyone knows I’m bleeding for you. But you care so little for me that you don’t see anything.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this!” Enjolras yelled, starting to break under unaccustomed levels of emotional distress. “I tried to play a fucking joke, okay, and that’s not me so of course it went to hell because I don’t know what to do with all of…” he gestured helplessly. “This! I know work and organizing people and getting permits and writing articles. Of course I fucked up trying to pull a prank. I’m sorry. I’m really fucking ashamed of myself right now, and that’s all I’ve got. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well you did,” Grantaire said. “And there are consequences for that kind of shit. Now leave me the fuck alone. God, I need a fucking drink.” He left his coffee on the table and stormed out of the apartment. This time Enjolras let him go.

* * *

Grantaire stopped going to the Musain.

It took Enjolras almost two weeks to notice. Grantaire skipped out on their meet ups more often than their other friends, and he occasionally avoided Enjolras for inexplicable reasons for days at a time, so it wasn’t exactly unusual for them to go a little while without bumping into each other, even with all their mutual friends. And considering how badly the confrontation had gone, Enjolras wasn’t expecting to see Grantaire right away anyhow. He thought Grantaire would still be hanging out with their friends though.

To his great surprise, Enjolras found himself missing Grantaire immensely. What had always seemed like off-topic non-sequiturs or pointlessly biting cynicism were, in actuality, lively comments that brightened up their discussions. For the most part, all of Enjolras’ friends agreed with each other. Discussing social politics got very flat and flavorless exceptionally quickly without that dissenting voice that prompted them to dig deeper and question themselves. By the end of the first week, Enjolras found himself watching the door like a hawk, waiting for that familiar head of dark, tousled hair to make its way into the back room of the Musain.

It also didn’t help that word of his misdeed had spread and everyone was pissed at him. His favorite hangout was fast becoming such an inhospitable place to be that Enjolras was considering adopting Grantaire’s example and skipping their meet ups as well.

He still didn’t have any brilliant ideas about how to fix things though. He’d tried apologizing, and it hadn’t done anything. Grantaire certainly wasn’t giving him an opportunity to mend fences by avoiding him like this. Enjolras realized that if he was ever going to restore peace to their group he’d have to take action himself, and the first step was to find Grantaire. Hopefully a fuller plan would fall into place after he’d tracked down his wayward friend.

Grantaire wasn’t answering texts or phone calls and Enjolras wasn’t sure exactly where he lived (somewhere in the general vicinity of the Musain, he thought), so his first attempt to seek Grantaire out involved a trip to the Corinth. He knew some of this friends favored the dive bar when they wanted a change of pace, and that Grantaire and Bossuet in particular liked the dingy little mess better than the invitingly warm, well-lit, and infinitely cozier Musain (so Enjolras was a bit biased). Enjolras had only actually been to the Corinth once, the result of much needling from Courfeyrac, and he hadn’t felt compelled to return.

He reluctantly made his way into the dive one night during the second week of Grantaire’s absence and immediately felt the need for a shower. The gazes he drew made him regret his decision to put on red skinny jeans that morning. He should have dressed a bit more thoughtfully.

Though there was every chance he could have walked in in a fucking hazmat suit and the pervs would still be ogling him like that.

Fricassee was working the bar that night. She nodded dismally at Enjolras when he entered and continued rubbing a dirty glass with a dirty rag. As he didn’t feel safe ordering anything that hadn’t been fermented, Enjolras went with a hard cider and was pleased to be handed a bottle. He’d been dreading the prospect of drinking from one of those glasses.

Once he had his cider, Enjolras claimed a table in the back that gave him a pretty decent view of the rest of the bar. If the place had had decent lighting, he’d have been able to see everything save a small nook by the restrooms. So far none of his friends were there, which made him fear he’d purchased the hard cider for nothing. Grantaire probably wasn’t going to show up.

Well, he’d give it at least an hour. Enjolras took out his phone and started scrolling through an e-book, losing himself in some Baldwin while he waited to see who would arrive. He only had to fend off a few would-be suitors for the others to get the message, and eventually he was left with lecherous gazes and Notes from a Native Son for company.

He got so lost in Baldwin’s familiar eloquence that he forgot his reason for being at the unliked and unfamiliar haunt to begin with. Then Bahorel tapped him on the shoulder and he almost jumped out of his skin. The brawler was glaring down at him with his muscular arms folded over his chest. “Okay asshole, explain yourself.”

Enjolras pointedly finished the paragraph he’d been reading and stowed the phone in his pocket before looking up and coolly regarding his friend. He remained seated, even though Bahorel was clearly trying to intimidate him by standing over the table. Feuilly and Bossuet were standing just behind him, both of them frowning.

“Is Grantaire with you?” Enjolras asked, taking pains to keep his voice steady and disinterested. It was hard, with three of his closest friends looking like they wanted to murder him.

“No, he damn well isn’t, not that it’s your fucking business. No one’s seen him since you screwed with his head,” Bahorel snapped.

Enjolras didn’t like the sound of that. He assumed Grantaire was only avoiding _him_. “No one’s seen him? _At all_?”

“Oh my God, Enjolras. Do you still not get how bad you hurt him?” Bossuet looked disgusted.

“I’ve got a fairly good estimate, yes,” Enjolras said, irritation started to overpower worry. He went with that. “But I’m not alone in guilt. You’re the one who eavesdropped on my private conversation with Jehan and misrepresented everything I said. I was going to explain myself as gently as I could, but you butted in and blew everything out of proportion.”

Bossuet was flabbergasted. “Don’t you dare pin this on me! You’re the one who fucked with his head! You’re the one who always shits on him and tears him down whenever the least little opportunity presents itself. So help me God, Enjolras, if he’s on pills again or cutting or any of that shit it’s _your_ fucking fault, not mine!”

“Wait, what are you… _what_?” Enjolras was reeling. What did he mean by pills? It didn’t sound like he meant safely prescribed medication. And cutting…Enjolras absent mindedly rubbed at his left forearm.

Feuilly placed a restraining hand on Bahorel and Bossuet each. “Guys, he doesn’t know. R made us all promise not to say anything about his depression or his addiction.”

“Because he places a stupid amount of his self-worth in how Enjolras sees him,” Bahorel said, fixing a nasty glare on Enjolras as he spoke. “You really do have no idea how many times you’ve put that bottle in his fucking hand, do you?”

“Excuse, uh, excuse me?”

They all jumped, not having noticed timid little Fricassee approaching them. “Mr. and Mrs. Houcheloup both kindly request that if you want to fight, could you please remove yourselves from the premises first? Thank you.” She wandered off after her clearly scripted speech, keeping a worried eye on their corner.

Feuilly returned her stare, looking incredulous. “She really thinks we’re going to start a fight. Unbelievable.”

“If Enj wants to step outside, I’m not averse,” Bahorel said. “But we seriously gotta go outside. The Houcheloups aren’t kidding. They’ll call the fucking cops.”

“I’m not fighting you,” Enjolras said. “You’re all being ridiculous.” He finally stood up and shrugged into his jacket. “For the record, I’m worried about R too. I’m looking for him because I want to find a way to fix this.”

“Enjolras, please don’t.” Feuilly sounded exasperated. “You’re only going to make it worse.”

Enjolras kept his head down and walked away. He had lots of things he wanted to say to the three of them, but frankly it was distracting enough just trying to repair his friendship with Grantaire. He didn’t need the burden of having to fix _all_ of his friendships.

He was almost to his car when he finally saw that familiar head of tousled black hair. Grantaire was sitting on the curb of an empty space next to Enjolras’ car smoking a cigarette; it looked like he was waiting for him.

Enjolras did a double take. “Grantaire? Wh-what are you doing out here?”

“A few of the guys showed up at my place and dragged me out to be social, but I saw your car so I…uh, they didn’t notice it was your car. I told them I was going to have a smoke and then I’d head in but…I figured we should probably talk. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” He tossed his cigarette into a puddle and then stood up.

Enjolras looked him over, half-expecting to see signs of self-inflicted abuse or maybe a pill bottle spilling out of his pocket or something, but as far as he could tell it was the same Grantaire as ever. Maybe the familiar blue eyes were a bit more morose than usual and the stubble a bit closer to being a beard than the result of indifferent shaving, but otherwise he looked (for him) completely normal.

Enjolras unconsciously licked his lips, remembering how Grantaire’s had felt against them.

Grantaire shoved his hands in his pockets and lowered his gaze. “Um…m’sorry I was such a dick to you.”

“What?” Enjolras gave his head a tiny shake. “No, that’s not right. I was the dick.”

“Enj, I ticked you off on purpose, knowing that you’ve got a temper, and you reacted in an albeit shitty capacity, but it wasn’t that much worse than how I treat you on a regular basis. I’ve been getting under your skin and pushing your buttons for the better part of three years. I shouldn’t have lost my temper on you for returning the favor.”

“But I attacked you so personally…”

“And I don’t do that to you? I may not go after your emotions, but I go after your ideals. With you that’s practically the same thing. That’s what you care about the most, and I’m always belittling everything you care about and being a dick. That’s not right either. So, I’m sorry.”

Enjolras still felt that he was in the wrong. Very, seriously in the wrong. He knew that he should be the one apologizing, not Grantaire, but at the same time…it was vindicating to hear Grantaire admit that. Because three years was an awful long time to be pestered and harassed about his dreams and his worldview.

“Thank you, R. You’re completely forgiven. Do you think you’ll be able to forgive me as well?”

“Enj, I forgave you on the spot. I wasn’t even really that mad. I was…” He ran a hand through his hair, stalling. “Disappointed? I mean, I was almost sure I’d dreamt the kiss, but then I had this stupid thought that maybe I hadn’t and, I dunno, it was kinda fun to get excited for a few minutes there. Stupid, but fun and anyway, when it all came crashing down like I should have known it would I just needed some time to recover. And I did, so trust me, we’re good. Y’know…as long as it’s not weird now.”

“It probably should be, shouldn’t it?” Enjolras mused. “But this doesn’t feel weird to me at all. I really appreciate that you’re talking to me about this. I think this is the first time we’ve had a real conversation.”

“Yeah, probably. Um…”

“I’m sorry. I’m keeping you from Bahorel and the others, aren’t I?” Enjolras suppressed a flare of anger, remembering that his friends had lied to him and scared him more to keep him from Grantaire. Harping on that wasn’t going to make anything better, so he kept his attention on Grantaire. “You should go inside and have fun.” Enjolras expected him to take the opportunity to run, as he still looked fidgety and nervous, but Grantaire remained.

“I kinda don’t want to stop talking to you now that we’ve really started. Is this really okay? Fuck, but I’ve had such a screwed up idea of you for so long. It never even occurred to me to try talking to you like you were a normal guy.”

Enjolras smiled. “You mean like how you are with everyone else? I noticed a difference, even if I couldn’t figure out what exactly it was. I just thought you didn’t like me as much as the others. I assumed you thought I was stuck up, or judgmental or something.”

Grantaire actually laughed at that. “Oh, fuck, Enj…me not liking you. That’s a good one. Trust me, if anything I like you too much.”

“I can’t figure out why. We’re so different.” Enjolras tilted his head to the side, studying Grantaire. “Are you cold? You must be, with just that hoodie. Come on, let’s sit in my car while we finish our conversation.”

“You sure? I’m gonna stink it up with cigarettes and BO.”

“Just don’t light any new ones and I’ll be fine.” Enjolras pressed the button to unlock the car, then graciously went over to the passenger side to open Grantaire’s door for him. He looked a little unsure of himself when he sat down, but he was making an effort to relax by the time Enjolras got into the driver’s side. Enjolras turned on the heat, and then put on the radio but kept the volume down very low.

“So…we both thought we hated each other,” Grantaire muttered.

“I didn’t think you hated me, but I didn’t think you liked me very much,” Enjolras corrected. “I figured the only reason we saw much of each other at all was because we have so many of the same friends.”

“Oh, yeah, no. I became better friends with the guys through the process of following you everywhere. I was always looking for an excuse to hang with my crush. Making the best friendships of my life was a pleasant bonus.”

That was something to think about. Enjolras was going to have to reexamine all of the assumptions he’d made about Grantaire over the years. This night had already given him a lot to think about, however, and it was going to take time. Rather than mull it over, he’d prefer to keep talking to Grantaire. It was surprisingly pleasant when he was being so candid. The fact that he was sober at the moment helped immensely as well.

And maybe it had something to do with the way the streetlight was hitting him, but he looked…different. He had nice eyes, Enjolras realized.

“Enjolras, what are you doing?” Well, that skeptical tone of voice was certainly familiar.

Enjolras felt his face heat up. He turned away from Grantaire and frowned. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“You were checking me out.”

“I…I’m just noticing things about you that I hadn’t before.”

“Well cut it out.” Grantaire slumped down a bit in the seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s fucking weird.”

“I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I swear I’m not. It’s just…look, you’re not unattractive, you know. And that kiss has been lingering in my thoughts since it happened, and even though I was pretty sure I wasn’t interested in you, now that you’re really talking to me and not just being an ass I’m…I’m getting confused.”

“You’re pitying me, Enjolras. It’s not the same thing as liking me. And I’m not even gonna touch that unattractive thing, because we both know that’s a god damn lie.”

“It’s not,” Enjolras said weakly. Even though giving convincing arguments was supposed to be one of his strengths, he was having a difficult time coming up with points to support his reasoning. Grantaire’s hair was messy, but he liked it anyway. His skin was too pale and it made him look washed out while highlighting the reddish patches of future breakouts, but again, Enjolras liked the paleness anyway. There was no logic to his attraction; by conventional standards, Grantaire was not attractive. But there wasn’t much about Enjolras that was conventional. “Well, _I_ like the way you look.”

“Enjolras, please don’t do this. You know how I feel about you now. Confused isn’t gonna work for me. I can’t-I don’t want to get my hopes up for real, okay? Think before you say anything else.”

Enjolras nodded. “Sorry. That was stupid of me.”

Grantaire cracked a small smile that almost met his eyes (his fucking annoyingly pretty eyes). “It’s okay. This has gotta be unfamiliar turf for you, huh? I mean, I’ve never seen you even think about romance before. You always chase people off with that death glare of yours. I was starting to think the only reason you identified as gay was to be a more convincing activist.”

Enjolras shrugged. “I’m awkward. I don’t date well.” He lowered his gaze and started tapping at his steering wheel. “I’d probably be a horrible boyfriend. I’ve got that temper, and then I hold myself to exacting standards which I’m told are ridiculous to expect from others. I’d always put my work first and I…that is-”

“Virgin?” Grantaire said. Blushing furiously, Enjolras nodded. “I’d kind of figured that. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. The right guy won’t care that you’re inexperienced. He’ll make sure it’s good for you. And you’re you, so you’ll definitely find the right guy. There’s someone out there who’ll meet or exceed your fucking ridiculous standards. I promise not to be a total dick to him when you finally meet him.”

‘I kind of want it to be you,’ Enjolras thought to himself, but he didn’t dare say it aloud.

“Grantaire, can I ask you something personal?”

“Anything you want. I’m in a docile mood tonight, so I’ll probably play ball and give you a straight answer.” Grantaire was starting to look relaxed. He’d uncrossed his arms, and his slouch looked like more of a sprawl than a defensive position.

That changed when Enjolras made his query. “The others were all really angry at me for hurting you. They were concerned that you might, might hurt yourself and they accused me of, well, I mean, they didn’t _all_ accuse me, but Bossuet in particular thinks that I’ve…that I’ve really hurt you. More than just this once. He said that you’re depressed and that you hurt yourself because of me.”

“That fucking piece of shit.” Grantaire tensed up immediately. “Enjolras, that’s a load of shit and fuck him for working you up like that. It’s not your weight to carry so please don’t give it another thought.”

“I can’t help it. Is it true? Do you hurt yourself?”

Grantaire flinched and faced forwards. “Sometimes? I mean, yeah. I drink and I used to have this thing with pills…Combeferre and Joly helped me detox myself and come down gradually though. I’ve been completely clean for three months on Tuesday, and I got off the really bad shit last spring. I used to cut. Still do sometimes when it gets really bad, but it’s not like it used to be. Mostly these days I just have a hard time sleeping and when I want to punish myself I do really tough workouts. Something that leaves me burning the next day.”

“Oh.”

“Fuck. I really didn’t want them to say anything about that.”

“No, I’m glad I know,” Enjolras insisted. “Now I’ll know to be careful-”

“I’m not made of glass, Enjolras. When I’m being an asshole, you can call me an asshole. This is exactly why I didn’t them to tell you. None of them fucking get it either. Look, the only one who ever puts a bottle in my hand is me. You are not now, nor have you ever been, responsible for my mental health just because I’m in love with you. I’d have those swings no matter what. You just happen to be the object of my focus some of the time and it isn’t your fault. Now, before you try to say something stupid again, _no_.”

“No what?”

“No, I don’t want a pity date. I am absolutely fucking sure that I do not want a fucking meaningless pity date. I want you to love me back, but I’m going to live either way. I certainly don’t want you to date me just because you feel bad for me. That’d be the fucking worst.”

Enjolras banged his head on the steering wheel. He felt like ripping his hair out. “ _This_ is the fucking worst!” he yelled. “Now that you’ve stripped away all your defensive posturing and bullshit and are really truly talking to me as a person, and you’ve prompted me to reexamine everything I thought I knew about you, and reflect on our past interactions in a different light, and not to mention the fact that we’re finally close enough to really see each other and look each other in the eye and I’ve noticed that your eyes are fucking beautiful-shut up, Grantaire. I think you’re beautiful and I’m allowed to think that. Now that I’m starting to like you on my own it seems like the best way to see if that’s genuine or not would be to spend more time with you one on one, but you’ve just forbidden me from asking you to do so. This sucks.”

“Are you done with your tantrum?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras kept his face pressed against the steering wheel, but he shot him a sideways look. “Yes.”

He was smirking. “Cool. That was an intriguing tantrum. We can start with coffee.”

Enjolras sat up. “What, really?”

“Hey, that didn’t sound like pity. That sounded like anger, and issues, but not pity. I can roll with a little dysfunction. God knows I’ve got enough of it myself, but one thing I won’t stand for is you thinking you have to like me out of some kind of misplaced sense of duty or justice. But if you actually like me, I won’t look that gift horse in the mouth. I’ve been crazy about you for so long that it was actually starting to _make_ me crazy…but not that crazy.”

“I’d like to kiss you again. How long will I have to wait for that?”

Not long, as it turned out.

Eventually Bahorel, Bossuet, and Feuilly realized that Grantaire couldn’t possibly still be smoking in the parking lot, and they ventured outside to look for him. Feuilly was the one who saw them making out in Enjolras’ car. Being a sensible young man, he didn’t say anything about it to Bahorel or Bossuet but instead steered them back inside the Corinth.

 

%MCEPASTEBIN%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one unexpectedly grew on me. It wasn't supposed to be as long as it already is, but I want to give it one more chapter for the happy ending.
> 
> Let me know what you guys think, and thanks to everyone who's already left a comment or kudos. You guys rock :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is a little more rambly than I intended. I think it's fairly obvious that I just went into this story without much of a plan because I felt like writing something with these characters. And there's a little porn at the end because it's been awhile since I've written any of that, either. Hope you guys like the smuts and the fluffs :)

Enjolras was right; Grantaire did live very close to the Musain. He found that out when they finally stopped making out and he gave Grantaire a ride home.

He wasn’t quite done being with Grantaire for the night, but at the same time things were exceptionally fragile. Everything seemed to be going well enough, for the moment. Asking Grantaire back to his place, or asking to go upstairs was probably a bad idea, even though he really didn’t want to see Grantaire get out of the car without him.

In all honesty, he wasn’t really sure what was going on between them. They’d done more kissing than talking, and the lead up to the kissing hadn’t been all that encouraging. Grantaire had said he was in love with Enjolras quite a lot, but he was also exceptionally reluctant to date him. Enjolras wanted Grantaire to be comfortable no matter what, so he was following his lead. When he parked the car he kept silent about his desire to keep Grantaire in it, but he watched him carefully, hoping for a turn in conversation that would keep Grantaire from going upstairs.

Grantaire hesitated with his hand on the car door handle. He licked his lips, and then leaned over and planted a timid, gentle kiss on Enjolras’ cheek. “Are you hanging at the Musain tomorrow night?” he asked.

“I usually do, but…it’s been a bit awkward lately. I was thinking of skipping out,” Enjolras admitted.

“Oh. I bet it’s my fault. Enj, go tomorrow night. I’ll crawl out of my hole and we can talk to the guys and fix everything. They shouldn’t even be mad at you.”

“Everyone cares about you, R. As far as they can tell I’ve been terrible to you. Which is actually true-”

“Stop.” Grantaire leaned across the seat and kissed him firmly on the mouth. Enjolras leaned into the kiss, trying to think about how nice this was and not about how they could have been doing this for ages if he hadn’t been so oblivious and stupid.

He could quite honestly spend the rest of his life kissing Grantaire and be perfectly content about it.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire said sternly once he broke the kiss. His hands were still cupping Enjolras’ face, forcing them to keep eye contact. The mesmerizing blue eyes barely an inch from his weren’t great for Enjolras’ concentration, but he tried to focus. “If we start a pissing contest over who was worse to who for the past few years we’ll be here all night. We both apologized. We accepted each other’s apologies. I think we get a clean start now, right?”

Enjolras tried to nod, then gave up and sort of nuzzled against the calloused pads of Grantaire’s fingers. “Yes, you’re right.”

“Hey…” Grantaire trailed his thumb down Enjolras’ cheek. “Seriously, the past couple of weeks have sucked, but I know I gave you way more grief than you ever gave me. You shouldn’t beat yourself up about it. I’d rather see you happy.”

“I am.” He made an effort to bite back on the nervousness he still felt, hoping that all the good he was feeling shone through in his smile. Though Grantaire was behaving much more sensibly (for once), he still looked doubtful, as if he expected their tenuous understanding to disappear any moment and be revealed as another cruel sham.

“You don’t look it,” Grantaire observed. “Is there anything else you want to talk about before I take off?”

“It’s nothing. Grantaire, I promise, it’s just something stupid.”

Grantaire had had a hand on the door handle again, but he paused, that heart wrenchingly vulnerable look shining nakedly on his face. “What is it?”

“I just don’t want to have to wait until tomorrow night to see you again. I told you, it’s stupid. It’s late already and you need to go home.” Enjolras felt embarrassed to admit that he was feeling clingy _already_ , but Grantaire looked pleased with the admission.

“W-we don’t have to wait until it’s time to head to the Musain. I mean, we’re on break. The only thing I have to do tomorrow is a load of laundry and maybe scrub down the bathroom if I’m feeling ambitious.”

“Okay. Call me, then?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”

“Night.” Enjolras watched him head into his building. He thought he might have seen some happy dancing through the distorted glass of the front door, but he couldn’t be sure. Once satisfied that Grantaire had made it inside safely, Enjolras headed to his own lonely apartment, reflecting that it had seemed charmingly solitary just a few nights ago.

God, this thing was going to _ruin_ him.

* * *

Sleep amnesia once more hit Enjolras with its confounding magic. When he woke up he saw that he had a good morning text from Grantaire with a little heart at the end that puzzled him greatly. He was halfway through his first cup of coffee before he remembered that they’d spent the better part of an hour making out in his car last night, and then he spent the next ten minutes vapidly smiling as he stared at the text.

He got on Facebook and found a few notifications waiting for him. Getting updated went much more quickly these days now that most of his friends were mad at him. He didn’t have to scroll through a million ridiculous memes, for one thing. One of his contacts had sent him an article on student debt with a sarcastic message about it being from a reputable source. Enjolras still felt a smidge embarrassed and irritated, but he knew that the jest was friendly, and he audibly reminded himself of this while he thanked his friend for sending him informative reading material.

He was halfway through his morning routine before he realized it would probably be a good idea to text Grantaire back. Enjolras asked him how his morning was going, debated sending a little heart, and then opted for a smiley face instead. Smiley faces seemed neutral. His phone buzzed in response seconds later. He found a selfie of Grantaire looking exaggeratedly cheerful as he balanced a laundry hamper under his arm. ‘I’m being a good kiddo and getting my chores done so I can hang wit my hot boyfriend.’

If Enjolras had seen his face then, he would have been embarrassed about how absurdly bright his smile was. “So we are boyfriends.” He unabashedly texted a heart in response.

* * *

Enjolras wound up at Grantaire’s apartment pretty much as soon as he was in a fit state to leave his own. He’d never visited there before and spent a few minutes inspecting the place while Grantaire was in the basement changing over his laundry.

It had never occurred to him to wonder what Grantaire’s apartment might look like, but now that he was there he was pretty sure it wouldn’t have fit his expectations. For one thing, it was very clean and Grantaire himself usually wasn’t. Even when he wasn’t being particularly grungy, he was usually sporting paint stains, dye stains, occasionally some scorch marks from wood burning or soldering, or some other visible sign of whatever hobby had temporarily captured his notoriously flighty interest.

Enjolras saw some of the detritus of Grantaire’s crafty mind and short attention span around the apartment. He appeared to have made some of his furniture himself, or had improved upon it somehow whether by dying the slipcover to his futon or decoratively carving the legs of his coffee table. He might have had more books than Enjolras, an impressive feat, but it was hard to tell because he had so few bookcases and couldn’t store them properly. Enjolras found them neatly arranged in all sorts of unexpected spaces; his cookbooks were stacked under the breadbox in the kitchen, and one of his end tables was actually just a stack of progressively narrower vintage books with a table lamp placed on top.

When Grantaire returned from changing over his laundry they started to have a conversation, then made out for a little on his sofa, and then talked some more, and he forgot about his laundry and ended up having to rewash his whites the next morning when he realized they were still sitting in the washing machine.

Enjolras wanted to know everything about Grantaire. He’d never paid much attention to their resident cynic before, but now that his focus had been caught he was as passionate about the man as anything he ever bothered caring about. They had long, rambling conversations that sated some of Enjolras’ burning curiosity. The best part was when they discussed Grantaire’s views, his _real_ ones, on social justice.

“I always _wanted_ to care,” Grantaire admitted. “You should have seen me, back in high school. I was a good little radical with picket signs and everything. I was on the debate team and the GSA and I used to go to this Marxist study group in the city, and unlike the other snotty little assholes in my town I really knew my shit.”

“So what happened?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire frowned. “It just got so damn depressing. We never won, you know? Social programs keep getting cut and the gay kids at school were still getting the shit beat out of them, myself included. The world keeps getting worse and it hurt to care, so I decided to try to see the humor in it instead because at least then I could find something to smile about.”

“But R, we don’t lose all of the time. Look at the strides the LGBT movement has made in recent years.”

“Don’t you mean the LG movement? Because seriously, the whole fucking rainbow is not being represented. Besides, even if bis were being accepted as real and not some kind of discrediting half-gay thing, and trans issues were being pursued, and fucking aces and intersex and everyone else was being included in the letter scheme, even though that does make it admittedly unwieldy…we’re only winning as long as you have non-scary pro-capitalist life goals. If all you care about in life is marriage and a white picket fence then sure, it’s getting better. If that’s not your scene, fucking too bad because that’s all the activists care about right now.”

Enjolras was sitting with his back resting against the arm of the couch, one arm flung over the back and his legs tangled with Grantaire’s. He shifted his arm so that he could run his fingers through Grantaire’s hair while he puzzled over the perfectly valid points. “I agree with you.”

“You do?” Grantaire looked so surprised it was almost insulting.

“Yes,” Enjolras said, rolling his eyes. “Come on, I’m more red than you. It drives me crazy that the movement’s focus has narrowed to the point where it only supports the cultural elite and all but ignores the members of the community that need the most help. But you can’t help anything by sitting in the corner and calling the people who are at least trying a bunch of entitled assholes.”

“It’s fun though,” Grantaire teased. “Seriously though, I admire what you do. I’ve seen the way you sneak radicalism into your work with the establishment. You’re very clever and I love you for it. I just don’t get it.”

“What’s to get?” Enjolras asked. “You seem to understand things a lot more clearly than I’d realized.”

“I don’t get how you keep fighting so damn hard without ever losing faith. It’s…it’s hard not to slide into jaded cynicism. I didn’t have the strength to keep it up, and that’s probably why you blow me away so much. You’re pretty fucking magical, Enj.”

Enjolras laughed. “I’m just relieved you don’t think I’m some kind of naïve idiot.”

“Nah, I know you know your shit. You’re just stronger and better than me.” Grantaire reached over and pulled Enjolras onto his lap. “You’re also prettier.” He dropped a quick kiss on his lips. “And you smell really nice.”

“You’re such a weirdo,” Enjolras laughed. He wrapped his arms around Grantaire’s neck and kissed him, slowly and thoroughly to the point where Grantaire forgot they were bantering. He looked a bit dazed when Enjolras leaned back to continue the conversation. “You’re smarter, and you’re so creative and thoughtful. I love how you can actually see beauty in things. I just see whether they’re useful or not. Seriously, R. You’re going to have to teach me how to look at paintings the way you do.”

“It’s pretty easy, Enjolras. You just look at them. Helps if you see them as more than propaganda though, I’ll give you that.” He slid his hands under Enjolras’ shirt and settled them at his waist. “Enj, are we making out or talking? My dick’s getting kind of confused.”

“I’d like to make out, especially now that I feel badly for confusing your dick,” Enjolras said with a smirk. “But we should probably get going if we want to catch the guys at the Musain.”

Grantaire’s eyes widened. He seemed to just notice that the sun had gone down. “Shit! What time is it?”

“We could just stay in,” Enjolras mumbled as he reluctantly slid off of Grantaire’s lap.

“No, we gotta go. I don’t want the guys to stay mad at you. We’re gonna fix this shit tonight.”

“It’s really not a big deal,” Enjolras insisted. He remained on the couch, hopeful that Grantaire would change his mind and cuddle up next to him. He’d enjoyed their lazy day in; getting to know each other better between heated kisses was a pretty fun way to spend a day off, and it had been productive for both of them. Grantaire still had a fair share of things to learn about his new boyfriend. He may have been paying stalker-ish levels of attention to Enjolras for the entirety of their friendship, but he’d also idolized Enjolras to a ridiculous extent and now felt the need to come back down a little and see him as a human. There was plenty of shit he didn’t know either.

But Grantaire stood up and went to get their coats from the hooks he’d screwed into the wall by the front door. He tossed Enjolras’ coat at him when he stubbornly remained seated on the couch. “Come on, Enj. We might as well get this over with.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…today’s been really nice, and this won’t be.” He shrugged his coat on and then accepted Grantaire’s hand so he could pull him off of the couch. Grantaire pecked him on the lips, keeping their hands clasped and their fingers entwined.

“Look, these guys are our best friends and our stupidly codependent almost-family. We gotta clue them in. And, important emotional attachment aside, if any of them are anything but happy for us I will deck the asshole. Sound good?”

“Somehow I just can’t imagine you punching Jehan in the face. He’s so sweet.”

“Okay, if Jehan’s pissy I’ll just frown really hard at him. I’m sure that’d have the same effect.”

“What about Joly?”

“Shit, he’s a sweetheart too. Well, I’ll think of something before we get there.”

Still holding hands, they continued the playful discussion during the brief walk around the corner and to the café.

* * *

The back room of the Musain was alive with the buzz and chatter of a roomful of college students with caffeine in hand and another week and a half before they were obligated to pick up a book again. A few of them were having a loud and lengthy discussion about some of the books they were reading voluntarily now that they had the time to do so, while a few other duos and trios were complaining about coworkers, politics, or their love lives. All in all, it was a typical night for the circle of friends.

When Enjolras and Grantaire entered the room together it got so quiet you could hear the sound of the industrial dishwasher running two rooms away. Pretending like he hadn’t noticed, Enjolras took his coat off and draped it over the back of a nearby chair. Grantaire sat down next to him, defiantly staring down his friends.

In a further act of defiance, he reached over and took Enjolras’ hand. Enjolras knew the gesture was more of a ‘fuck you’ than anything meant to calm or comfort him, but he still liked feeling the sturdy fingers twined through his.

“So…we talked,” he said, hoping they might leave it at that.

“Among other things,” Feuilly observed. “You were a bit more handsy than a conversation requires when I saw you in the parking lot of the Corinth last night.”

“What the hell is going on?” Courfeyrac asked. “I’m lost. Are you guys…a thing now?”

Enjolras and Grantaire traded a look and nodded.

“Um…are you sure that’s a good idea?” Joly asked.

“We talked,” Grantaire said, voice low and firm. “And our highly personal life choices aren’t up for a group vote, so if you’re looking to lecture us you can keep it to your damn selves.”

Combeferre pinched the bridge of his nose, a scowl on his face. “This is a terrible idea. You two are going to destroy each other, you realize that, don’t you?” There were murmurs of agreement to his statement.

But the murmurs of agreement were not universal. Jehan was smiling at them, at least. He got up and walked between the tables so that he was standing in front of them. “I just knew you had feelings for him underneath it all! Oh Enjolras, I’m so happy you finally put it all together.” To Enjolras’ great surprise, Jehan hugged him, kissed Grantaire’s cheek, and then returned to his seat next to Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac gave him a funny look, then shrugged. “Well, they’ve got our resident Romantic’s blessing. Maybe it’s not such a shit idea. But you guys are really skilled at getting on each other’s nerves. I really didn’t see this coming.”

“You’re sure it’s not a fucking joke this time?” Bahorel ground out.

“Positive,” Enjolras snapped. He convulsively squeezed Grantaire’s hand, his own stomach churning. “I’d also really appreciate it if that was never brought up again.”

Bahorel scowled at him. “Well too fucking bad. My memory’s not that short, Enjolras. You tore R’s heart out _two weeks ago_. You’re not the one who always builds him back up after you fuck with his head. Me and Joly and Bossuet and Courf are the ones who take the one am phone calls-”

“Bahorel, shut the fuck up or so help me god I will hit you.” Grantaire started to walk around the table towards him, but Enjolras wouldn’t let go of his hand. Reluctantly, he remained at his boyfriend’s side.

“Grantaire, please,” Enjolras whispered. “To an extent, I deserve this. Your friends care about you, and as far as they can tell I’ve hurt you. A certain amount of reassurance isn’t an unreasonable request.”

“But it wasn’t you!” Grantaire exploded. “I mean, yeah, you were a dick sometimes, but only when I provoked you. You never ran up to me cackling and willfully prodded at my emotional scars.” Grantaire turned and addressed their friends. “Guys, he’s not jerking me around this time. You know how I feel about him so can you please just be happy for us?”

“I can reserve judgment for now,” Combeferre said. His expression looked grim and serious as he studied the two of them. “I’m speaking as your friend, _both_ of you. I just don’t see enough compatibility for a relationship to work and I’m worried about you being hurt by the fallout. It’d be difficult to go back to being friends.”

“And am I the only one who can’t remember Enjolras ever expressing interest in having a relationship? Like, not just with R, but like ever?” Joly asked. “Seriously, it’s not just me who’s baffled by this, right?”

Enjolras let out a groan of frustration and rubbed at his eyes. “It’s a recent development.”

“I’d like to repeat my stance that me and Enj’s relationship is not, in fact, up for a group vote,” Grantaire added. “Nor are we required to explain ourselves to you.”

“We’re not required,” Enjolras agreed. “But, c’mon. They’re our friends, they’re worried, and I’m damn well going to be seeking out help when I get in over my head. I don’t have sufficient prior experience to help me and I don’t want to screw this up.” Enjolras nodded at his friends. “I wish some of you weren’t trying to murder me with your eyes right now, but I do appreciate the fact that you’re concerned about us. If it weren’t so intense as to be a bit creepy it’d be really touching.”

“Enjolras, you can talk to anyone you need to one on one if you need support,” Jehan said, and it was clear despite his wording that he was offering himself as an ear for Enjolras’ worries. “But Grantaire’s right. You don’t deserve this sort of treatment, and you shouldn’t have your personal affairs interrogated by us as a group. It’s not right, and it’s disrespectful. The occasional slip-up aside, we all know you and know what your character is like. You’d never hurt R on purpose.”

“Yeah, _on purpose_ ,” Bossuet mumbled. Bahorel nodded his agreement.

“Whatever.” Grantaire finally took a seat, so Enjolras sat down next to him. “Let’s talk about something else. Any thoughts on the Spider Woman costume redesign? I’m trying to figure out if it’s influenced more by continued apologies and groveling for the Manara variant cover or a desire to rip off the cosplay success of DC’s Batgirl redesign.”

Even though Enjolras couldn’t have cared less about the controversies of comicdom, he was glad for the new subject. Feuilly and Bahorel latched on with gusto, and from there smaller cliques formed and more habitual conversation resumed. He got a few odd looks from his friends as the night progressed, and Bahorel and Bossuet looked disapproving every time he and Grantaire behaved at all affectionately, but for the most part things felt normal.

It was the first time since Enjolras’ horrible joke that he felt comfortable at the Musain. Jehan even pulled him aside at one point to beg forgiveness for being so cold to him. “I wasn’t trying to. I was just, I was so worried about Grantaire. I always am when he goes on silent to everyone, and I just wasn’t thinking straight because of it.”

“It’s okay, Jehan. You weren’t even that bad.” And in truth he hadn’t been. Jehan was a pretty quiet kid to begin with. Enjolras probably wouldn’t even have noticed that the poet wasn’t talking to him, except for the fact that _none_ of his friends had been talking to him and that highlighted his silence.

Jehan pulled him into a hug. “I’m so glad you two have worked this out. I know the others are worried and I get why, but at the same time I think they’re missing the point. You were wounding each other accidentally because you weren’t really seeing each other. Now that you are, well…I think it’s going to get better.”

“Me too,” Enjolras said, starting to smile. “I can’t believe I’ve been spending time with him on a regular basis for this long without noticing how extraordinary he is. Once I paid him just a little bit of mind…” Enjolras shook his head. “I have to stop. Seriously, Jehan, I’m unforgivably sappy right now. We just started dating yesterday. I’ll be sensible and able to have a conversation about him in a week or so.”

“Love isn’t supposed to be dignified, dear.”

“Then let me relax into it. I’m not comfortable being bubbly.”

“Enj, you ready to get going?” Grantaire called. He’d been chatting with a few of the guys while Enjolras and Jehan had their quick conversation, to good effect, it seemed; Enjolras was getting a few less death-glares, and Combeferre looked less gloomily skeptical.

Enjolras nodded at him and went to get his coat. He didn’t realize just how uncomfortable he’d been until they were outside and he felt like a weight had been lifted from him. Grantaire took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Well, that was fucking surreal.”

“Mm,” Enjolras murmured his agreement. “I’ve never had everyone so united against me before. Seriously, they haven’t put up such a united front of disagreement to me since I tried to assign them readings. And I still think that was a perfectly reasonable suggestion, by the way. Our discussions would proceed much more easily if everyone was well informed and on the same page.”

“I dunno, Enj. I’m the most disruptive and I’m probably the only person other than Combeferre who’s as well read as you. Plus you tried to assign the first reading during finals. Of course they rebelled.”

Enjolras sighed. “They’re awfully defensive of you.”

“They are.” Grantaire thoughtfully stroked Enjolras’ palm. “I’m going to have to remember that when I’m having another shitty day. I used to think that if we ever did start dating, the guys would all sit me down and tell me that I wasn’t good enough for you and then tell me to back off.”

“…really?”

Grantaire smirked. “My broken little brain works in the most wondrous ways. Since you’ve really latched onto this candid honesty thing I’m going to oblige you and keep it up, but fair warning, I’m the worst kind of mess. You might not like everything you learn.”

“That’s fair. Please keep that in mind as you continue to learn more about me.”

“Enj, I already know-”

“You’ve already pointed out how ludicrous the pedestal you had me on was. I’m human and prone to many failings, some of which you’ve observed, others you haven’t. It’s a new relationship, ‘Taire. We’re both going to make discoveries together.” Enjolras worried for a moment that he’d hurt Grantaire’s feelings somehow by shutting him down, but he was assuaged by a slow, leisurely kiss. Grantaire rubbed his thumb over Enjolras’ chin when he pulled away, eyes alight as he stupidly grinned at his boyfriend.

“Let’s hurry up and get home. I need to snuggle the ever living fuck out of you right now.”

“I’m really enjoying the unusual way you voice your affections.”

* * *

Waking up the next morning was a slow process with lots of false starts. The first time Enjolras woke up was when Grantaire disentangled himself to head to the bathroom. Enjolras rolled over, taking most of the blankets with him, and promptly fell back asleep.

The second time he woke up he was being stabbed in the back by a stubby finger and reminded that he was technically a guest, and that those weren’t even his blankets he was hogging. Enjolras sleepily blinked a few times, not quite sure what was going on.

“Never mind, I’ll get the extra one from the closet. You’re fucking adorable, you know. Seriously, if you found a way to weaponize that you could take over the world.”

He was asleep again before Grantaire finished rambling.

The next time he woke up it was because his phone was going off from a series of text messages. Enjolras now had all of Grantaire’s blankets, the spare included, while his boyfriend was shivering on the other side of the bed with his bathrobe on. Enjolras sat up on his elbow, yawned, and shifted the blankets to Grantaire. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I tried to. You’re a really stubborn blanket hog.”

Enjolras smoothed back his hair and placed an apologetic kiss on his forehead, then looked at his phone. He grinned, then leaned back so that he and Grantaire were sharing a pillow. “The guys are all apologizing for being unsupportive and sending me congratulations on our relationship. I think Jehan must have yelled at them.”

“Hmm…looks like they had a meeting after our meeting to discuss our love life.”

Enjolras sighed. “We might have a problem.”

“Nah…I mean yeah, we’re one big creepy codependent family, but I don’t think it’s a _problem_. Are you going back to sleep?”

Enjolras considered. He crawled under the blankets next to Grantaire and rested his head on his chest. “Maybe. I’d certainly like to snuggle for a little longer, and I’ll probably drop off again.”

“Kay. If you steal the blankets again I’m going to bite you.”

“No you won’t.”

“…you bit me. It’d be fair.”

The next time he woke up he was still comfortably snuggled against Grantaire, blankets covering both of them. Grantaire was still asleep, so Enjolras leaned up on his elbows and watched him for a minute, enjoying the small sounds of his breathing while feeling the rise and fall of his chest against his. ‘This is incredible,’ Enjolras mused. Just a couple of weeks ago he’d been nearly indifferent about Grantaire. He still didn’t like to think about his attempted prank too much, but maybe it had been a blessing in disguise, since it had prompted him to reexamine his feelings and brought them to this place…

Grantaire’s eyelashes barely fluttered. “I can feel you looking at me. S’creepy.” His voice was low and throaty.

“You mean you felt the mattress dip when I sat up,” Enjolras corrected.

“Same difference. Are you up?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Cool, because so am I.” Grantaire shifted his hips a little, and Enjolras felt the erection through his pajama pants.

His face was probably bright red, considering how warm he felt. “Oh…um…okay.”

“Hey, you don’t have to get involved if you don’t wanna. Remember what I said about the right guy and all that. It’s just, you’ve been cuddling me something awful for at least a half hour now, and you’re gorgeous and you smell really good and I could use a few minutes in the bathroom is what I’m trying to say.” By the time Grantaire mumbled to a close he was probably as red as Enjolras.

“So you’ve been half-awake and holding me with an uncomfortable erection for how long now?” Enjolras asked. While he spoke, he absently squeezed Grantaire, still foggy with sleep and not really aware of what he’d done until the man groaned. He massaged the bulge, surprised how much he was enjoying the pressure of another man’s cock in his hand, even with the barrier of pajama pants with a telling damp spot.

Then again, the sight of Grantaire biting his lip as his face flushed was pretty nice too.

“Enjolras…you’re a virgin and we’ve been dating for like, a day. I’m cool with jerking myself off. I didn’t even expect you to sleep over yet.”

“We’re not exactly strangers, ‘Taire. I won’t think of you as easy, I promise.” Enjolras continued massaging him and leaned up to plant a few kisses along his neck.

“Fuck…this is really okay?” Grantaire asked, sounding small and vulnerable. Enjolras was forcibly reminded of the fact that Grantaire had spent the better part of three years convincing himself that he would never get a chance to touch Enjolras because he didn’t deserve it.

Enjolras abruptly stopped fondling Grantaire’s erection in favor of climbing fully on top of him. He framed Grantaire’s face with his hands and forced him to make eye contact. Their noses were bumping. “It’s more than okay, R. I’m attracted to you too, remember? I think you’re beautiful, and I’ve loved waking up next to you all morning even if I did steal the blankets and allegedly bite you.”

“You totally bit me-”

“I don’t remember doing so and I’m not inclined to take your word for it. At any rate…I trust you. And I think a little mutual petting would be okay.”

“Petting? You sound like my grandmother. Are you one of the fast kids that likes to neck in parked cars on Lover’s Lane?”

“You need to work on your bedroom talk.”

“You don’t get to lecture me. I’m supposed to be the experienced one.”

“I think we’re in trouble then.”

Grantaire flipped their positions and ground his hips against Enjolras. Enjolras dug his fingers into Grantaire’s back and rutted up against him. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“You are seriously too pretty to be real.” Grantaire kissed his way up Enolras’ throat and jawline, all the while continuing to thrust against him. “I can’t believe I get to do this. You could be with anyone.”

“Not true, and besides that, I want you.” Enjolras kissed him messily, needy, completely distracted by all the delicious sensations Grantaire was coaxing from him. He felt delusional; even Grantaire’s sweat smelled good to him.

And his hands…his hands felt like they were everywhere. First they were under his t-shirt, roving over his abs and along his back, sliding up to tweak a nipple, then back down again in a soft, teasing caress over his belly. Then he reached under the waistband of Enjolras’ pajama pants and gripped him. He paused for a second, watching Enjolras’ face intently.

“If you think I’m going to tell you to stop-”

“So we’re clear, you can at any time.” Grantaire kept his eyes on Enjolras’ for another long moment before he let himself lower his gaze. “I really shouldn’t be surprised. You cock’s just as unbelievable as the rest of you.”

Enjolras wasn’t quite sure what he started to say, but it got lost in a moan when Grantaire started moving his hand. Grantaire was murmuring something laced with profanities while he jerked Enjolras off, but he didn’t really notice what the words were. The low rumble of a voice was more of a pleasant background noise, just something else nice about Grantaire for him to take in while his cock was surrounded by that wonderful grip. It was nothing like when he touched himself, and not just because Grantaire had all those callouses and healed burns that gave his hand a delightful texture.

He was a tiny bit disgusted when Grantaire spit in his hand before resuming the hand job, but he couldn’t argue with the sensation. Still though.

“I keep lotion for that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when we’re at your place. Go back to moaning. You’re very pretty when you do that.”

“Fuck…ngh…I’ll bite you again…”

“See, you _did_ bite me. You just admitted it.” Grantaire sped up the pace of his hand. He licked along Enjolras’ ear, then whispered against it. “I’m kinda into the biting.”

“Grantaire…” He was getting so close. Grantaire was _perfect_. The way he held him and covered his hot skin with the most passionate, devoted kisses and the look in his eyes as he watched Enjolras get closer and closer to the edge…

He’d done nothing to deserve the love he saw there, but Enjolras aspired to be the man Grantaire already thought he was. Some vague resolution to that effect entered Enjolras’ mind as he spent into Grantaire’s hand, but he lost the details in an orgasmic haze and just felt his emotions instead of picking them to death.

“Oh my god, Enjolras. You just made handjobs exciting. And they seriously haven’t been exciting since high school.”

“You’re still hard,” Enjolras noted. “Hey, I was the one touching you.”

“Yeah, but then you distracted me by being beautiful and sexy. What was I supposed to do, stop touching you when you were moaning and swearing like that? Profanities sound infinitely better raining from your perfect lips, BT dubs.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Enjolras yanked Grantaire’s boxer shorts down in a manner completely lacking finesse but inarguably effective.

For a moment something close to panic flashed over Grantaire’s features, and Enjolras worried that he’d done something inappropriate. Grantaire had been respectful and attentive and he deserved the same treatment; it wasn’t fair for Enjolras to assume he could be less careful just because Grantaire had slept around and he hadn’t. This was still new territory for both of them.

Then Grantaire started to relax, though some color unrelated to exertion remained in his cheeks. “S-sorry. I know I’m not…not as, uh…well _anything_ as you.”

“Oh, is that what that’s about?” Enjolras rested his hands on Grantaire’s thighs and slowly ran them higher. “Our looks are an accident of birth, Grantaire. And be that as it may, I can only say I feel enormously lucky that you find me as attractive as I find you. Otherwise I’m sure my behavior towards you would have scared you off and deprived me of the wondrous experience of having you half naked in bed with me.”

“Don’t lie to me, Enj.” Grantaire’s cheeks continued to burn and he had a hard time meeting Enjolras’ eyes.

“I won’t.” Enjolras wrapped a hand around Grantaire’s cock, glad to feel it without the barrier of cloth between them. He was sticky with precum, possibly aroused to the point of pain.

Inexperienced though he was, Enjolras had a pretty good imagination. If Grantaire had been hard while they’d been asleep and had retained an erection while holding him and stroking him off, it boded well for their future activities. Clearly endurance wasn’t a problem for him.

Enjolras continued stroking him, and whispered dirty things to him in between kisses and a bite or two at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He hoped his handjob felt as good to Grantaire as the one he’d just received, but then something occurred to him.

Hm. Maybe he should spit in his hand.

It just seemed so unappealing to him though.

A half-formed thought started in Enjolras’ mind. He didn’t like the idea of spitting, but he did want Grantaire to enjoy himself. So he slid down Grantaire’s body and licked along Grantaire’s cock instead.

Grantaire made an unintelligible noise that was almost a shout in response. Enjolras paused, waiting to see if he’d be told to stop, but no such command came. He was more than a little shocked at his own behavior. He’d have to examine this later. He’d just jumped from cuddling to frotting to handjobs to blowjobs in alarming succession; much faster than he’d anticipated going.

But oh, he liked the velvet smoothness of Grantaire’s cock against his tongue. His half-formed thought had been to lick him and get the saliva on him that way, but he was starting to think that he might actually just blow him. He tried taking Grantaire’s cock into his mouth and lightly sucked against the head.

“Enj…you don’t have to…fuck, but if you want to keep going…can’t believe you’re…god, but you’re really…fuck. You’re perfect. You’re amazing and I love you and I’m so giving you the best blow job ever as soon as you’re hard again and I hate giving head but you’re a natural and are you sure you’re a virgin because for fuck’s sake you’re-”

He had to start tuning Grantaire out again, though the low, raspy voice once more provided a soothing sort of background for his ministrations. He’d started with a few tentative sucks and was now bobbing his head with a regular rhythm, taking more of Grantaire into his mouth. He could feel Grantaire’s fingers threading through his hair, cradling him as he closed his eyes and focused on drawing more swears and moans from his boyfriend.

His jaw was starting to ache and he couldn’t take any more of Grantaire’s cock without bringing tears to his eyes. Maybe he’d switch back to giving the handjob.

Then Grantaire climaxed, making the last thought irrelevant. Enjolras had already decided that he didn’t find spitting erotic, so he did his best to swallow Grantaire’s cum.

“Enjolras?” Grantaire looked distinctly dazed and sated as he shifted Enjolras up into a sitting position. Some of the contentment left, replaced by concern as he looked Enjolras over. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Enjolras hastily rubbed at his eyes, which had watered. He wiped some stray cum off of his chin, thought about licking his hand clean, and then decided against it and rubbed his hand against his pajama pants instead (shit-his _borrowed_ pajama pants). He’d work on acquiring that taste later. “Really, R, I’m fine.”

“You didn’t have to do…well, any of that.”

“I know. That’s part of the reason I wanted to.”

They cleaned themselves up a bit and, a few minutes later, were once more snuggled underneath the blankets, Enjolras resting safe and warm in Grantaire’s arms.

“Thank you,” Enjolras murmured.

“Uh…you’re welcome? Enjolras, thank you’s kind of a weird way to kick off pillow talk.”

Enjolras lightly bit his shoulder. “That’s not how I meant it, brat. I mean thank you for not pressuring me, and for reminding me that we could stop.”

“Oh. So you mean for not being a douche canoe? You’re completely welcome then. Um…has that been as issue for you?”

“Ah, we’re already onto one of the things that you didn’t already know about me.” Enjolras snuggled closer, hiding his face in Grantaire’s t-shirt. “You’re not actually my first boyfriend.”

“And we’re onto one of the myriad things you didn’t know about me. You’re mine.”

Enjolras shifted so that he could see Grantaire’s face. “All right, you surprised me. Really?”

“Truly. You’re a clever guy so I’m sure you put it together that most of my boastings in the Musain were bullshit. I’ve fucked around, but that’s usually the most pity I can wring out of guys. My company has never been desired for longer than a night or two. Lately I’ve suspected that part of the problem is me being hung up on you. No one wants to try a long term relationship with the sad sack prostrating himself before another man.”

“I suppose I should be thankful, since your romantic status has left you available to date me, but I’m still surprised. You’re so clever, and charming when you want to be. I can’t believe no one else wanted to date you.”

“I’m also unnaturally hideous and, not sure if you’ve noticed, but a bit of a drunk.”

“A bit.” Enjolras rolled his eyes.

They’d have to talk about that in seriousness down the line though, because that was an excess he’d like to see curbed now that they were more than just friends. He didn’t want to have to worry about the damage Grantaire was inflicting on himself with his habits.

“You’re not hideous, by the way.”

“Those aren’t even my words, Enj. Unnaturally hideous was one of the kinder things girls used to say about me in high school.”

Enjolras studied the well-loved face and tried to see even a hint of what a considerable chunk of the rest of the world must have when they looked at his boyfriend, but all he saw were kind eyes, a loving, irreverent smile, and a strong jaw that begged to be kissed, scratchy stubble be damned. “I don’t get it.”

“I’m starting to believe it. Thank my lucky stars for small miracles, I guess.” Grantaire carded his hand through Enjolras’ hair, and laughed when he relaxed into the touch. “You’re fucking adorable.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Mm…so you’re a virgin in your twenties who’s dated other gay boys in the past. I’m trying to make sense of that.”

“My exes were good looking enough, but they were insincere assholes who were just trying to get into my pants. Once I got close enough to them to clearly judge their character I decided not to let them.”

“Oh. And I passed your character test?” He sounded more confused than ever.

“You’ve never lied to me, ‘Taire. You’ve disappointed me a few times but you’ve never presented yourself as anything other than what you are, or what you believe you are. And…I’m really sorry for all the times I lashed out at you.”

“I know you are. Enj, it’s okay. You can stop apologizing for it. We’re seriously not naked together right now just because you feel bad about saying mean things to me, right?”

“Of course not,” Enjolras insisted. His anger at the suggestion must have showed, because Grantaire let out a loud bark of laughter and finally looked appeased.

“Oh thank god. I was determined that we were _not_ going down the pity fuck road. I didn’t want to stumble onto it by accident either.”

“I’d thought I’d made it clear that I have standards about who I’ll go to bed with. Pity fucks aren’t anything I’m interested in engaging in either.”

“Groovy. So we’re on the same page?”

“I think we are.” Enjolras gave him another tight squeeze. “Mm…we should probably actually get up. I’m probably going to get a headache if I don’t have some coffee soon.”

“Five more minutes.”

As the strong hands roaming along his back felt particularly nice, Enjolras couldn’t muster an argument.

“I want to pitch one more suggestion while we’re still discussing the relationship,” Grantaire said after a few minutes of contented silence. “Let’s not celebrate or even acknowledge April Fool’s Day until you figure out what a joke is. Because seriously, your sense of humor is a little wonky and it kind of scares me.”

Even though it was a sore subject, something about Grantaire’s tone of voice made him giggle.

It set a beautiful precedent, really. Enjolras wouldn’t let any of his friends tease him on April Fool’s Day ever again, but it became a couple’s thing for him and Grantaire. The man just refused to let Enjolras wallow in guilt or blame himself for his lover’s pain. When they were alone, Grantaire made quiet jokes that helped them reclaim the simple holiday as something lighthearted for them to privately enjoy.

Plus, even if the road had been bumpy, that disastrous prank was what finally got them together, and Grantaire was incapable of burdening such an event with misplaced resentment.

%MCEPASTEBIN%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! If you like my scribbles, please consider finding me on Facebook. It's a pen-name only account, so you get my musings about writing and updates on my various projects, both fan fic and professional ;)
> 
> https://www.facebook.com/valerie.maiers


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